Confessions Of A Teenage Canadian
by Everlasting Faerie Light
Summary: Meg Williams knew that she and alcohol didn't mix. After all, alcohol is the reason why she's now pregnant with Gilbert Beilschmidt's baby. Of all people, it just had to be that "awesome" sexy piece of ass, eh? PrussiaXfem!Canada Human/Teenage!AU
1. Prologue: The Plus Sign

Meg always knew that she was a horrible drunk.

Well, she had a _feeling. _

She was never actually sure of the fact.

But after losing her memory after two beers at last year's Christmas party, waking up naked on top of someone's fancy red car, and puking uncontrollably all over herself, she had this distinct hypothesis that she and alcohol didn't get along very well.

Meg had asked her brother Alfred what had happened during those blank moments of drunken memory loss, but he would just shake his head with a serious expression on his face, and declare that it was best left unsaid.

After that, Meg made sure to keep at least fifty feet of space between her and a can of beer.

So…why the hell did that change? Even if it was just for ONE night?

Meg reflected on the reasons why she found it to be such a good idea to drink that night. What had she been doing earlier that day?

Hmm…let's see…oh yeah! That day had been absolutely crappy. More crappy than usual.

Some things didn't change.

She was generally ignored by everybody at school, but that was a given. Meg can't recall a time where she wasn't in the background.

Then, that rude "holier-than-thou" British bastard Arthur Kirkland smacked right into her in the school parking lot, causing her to fall forward and scrape both her elbows and knees; he didn't even bother to stop, look back, or acknowledge her presence.

During lunch a few hours later, someone knocked her chocolate milk carton over, and it spilled all over her white shirt; she didn't have an extra change of clothing.

And of course, she missed the bus home, which resulted in her having to walk fifteen miles back to the house; Alfred had already hitched a ride with someone else, and her cell phone had broke a few days earlier because she accidentally dropped it in the toilet.

How convenient.

Meg remembered slamming the door to her room that day, and looking at herself in the mirror. She remembered seeing a plain, dainty girl with large glasses, wide violet-hued eyes, long uncontrollably thick blonde hair, pale skin, and a pitiful face expression.

Plain. Bland. Boring. Forgettable.

So that's what it was.

She decided to let herself go into extreme angst mode…oh woe is me. Boohoo, my life sucks. No one understands me.

Then, she decided to take it a step further, and accompany her brother to Francis's huge party. A huge party swimming with teenage hormones, sweat, booze, drugs, lack of parental supervision, and sex.

Meg wasn't one to go to these things. But she was feeling a bit rebellious. So she decided to go, and she drank. And drank. And drank.

Then…it was all colors and dizzying flashing lights and screaming and dancing. Then…it was…piercing red eyes, and a sexy smile, and the touch of hands, and best damn make- out session ever. After that, it was stumbling, the slam of the door, the hungry kissing and touching of flesh, the stripping off of clothes, and…and…

That laugh.

That fucking laugh.

"Kesese…"

When Meg woke up that morning, she found herself stark naked, tangled in a myriad of white sheets, her body covered in sweat and other…stuff. And when she tried to move, she realized how sore she was. The lower area of her body ached like a bitch, particularly around the inside of her upper thighs.

And with mortified realization, Meg just realized she had lost her virginity.

But to who? To who?

No one was in the bed with her. But she was sure…absolutely sure…

And then she remembered. Tousled silvery hair, piercing devilish red eyes, a wide smirk…that laugh…

Gilbert Beilschmidt.

That gorgeous albino. That bad boy. That dude that every girl fawns over and dreams about and drools about and has weird sexual fantasies about. That guy who doesn't give a shit, whose very presence screams dominance and majesty and awesomeness. That guy whose face spells out, "I'm going to take your virginity, and you're going to like it."

Yeah, that guy.

He and his "Bad Touch Trio" of gorgeous "sex god" bastards.

Meg knew that the best thing she could do about this was just let it go. Forget about it. Keep it to herself. Not mention it to anyone. Pretend it never happened.

And it worked for a while.

But not now. It wouldn't work anymore.

Fuck no.

Meg was screwed.

Beyond screwed.

She was fucked in the ass.

Because that stick was showing a little plus sign.

Meg, sweetheart…welcome to the world of teenage pregnancy, you irresponsible bitch.


	2. Options

Meg ran her hand over the smooth skin of her stomach. It was still flat. Thank God for that.

But she knew that it wouldn't remain this way for long. The thought made her chest clench unpleasantly.

Images of herself bloated up like a balloon swam through her head. Maybe people would notice her then, eh?

She collapsed backwards on her bed, still in a state of numb shock. She knew that the hysteria would hit her later, but as of now, she couldn't think straight.

Meg Williams was pregnant.

_Pregnant. _

She never thought that this kind of thing would happen to her. After all, she was one of those more naïve, innocent girls who blushed whenever someone made a slightly suggestive joke, covered her eyes when there was a sex scene in a PG-13 movie, and couldn't talk in front of an attractive guy to save her life. She was also one of those moral girls who gasped at the thought of underage drinking and the use of illegal substances.

It's funny how the world works…how someone as innocent and clueless as Meg Williams can find herself pregnant with the baby of none other than the "awesome" Gilbert Beilschmidt. All because of one measly mistake of letting alcohol enter her system.

Meg closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. She didn't know if she was panicking or not. It didn't really matter at this point. Panicking wouldn't solve anything.

She immediately thought of her options.

Alright…there was always the easy way out. Abortion.

Meg frowned. She never had a real stance on abortion. She never thought it was something that would concern her. The idea seemed to be a credible choice on her part. It would save her all the unwanted drama of having a kid at fifteen. Plus, if she was discreet enough, no one would have to know about it. Not even her brother.

But was she willing to abort a baby? Meg let out a breath and set the thought aside for now. When she came up with a definite viewpoint about the subject, she'd think about it again.

What else could she do? She could have the baby and put him or her up for adoption. It didn't seem too bad. She wouldn't be denying the poor kid of his or her life, and the baby would have parents that would sufficiently raise him or her better than she ever could. But…if she decided to have the kid, she would have to tell people that she was pregnant. Including her over-protective brother, her parents, and…and…maybe even Gilbert. The thought made her wince.

Then of course, she could always raise the kid herself with the help of her family. Of course, after watching all of those fucked up shows about teen pregnancy life, she knew it wouldn't be a walk in the park. First of all, she would have her future to worry about. It would most definitely go down the drain. Then, there was the constant needed care for the baby. And of course…whether or not the father would contribute to this whole thing or not.

Would Gilbert Beilschmidt be willing to father his own child? Even if the mother was a naïve, invisible nobody that he hadn't even said one word to?

Meg sat up, running her fingers through her long blonde hair. What the hell was she going to do?

For now, she just…wouldn't tell anyone. No one needed to know about this now, right? She would just keep a low profile, try and act normally, go to school, stay in the background, and avoid Gilbert Beilschmidt at all costs.

She wondered if he even remembered sleeping with her. He did leave first after all. Did he even pass her sleeping form a single glance before he left? Can he even place her name with a face?

Meg couldn't sit still anymore. She got up from her bed and walked to her mirror again, eyeing herself.

Same as always. Long torrents of thick blonde hair, wide violet-hued eyes, short and thin, pale….

Nothing stood out. She was just a boring Canadian chick.

In comparison to her brother, she was nothing. Alfred was that attractive American boy, with the perfect blonde hair, perfect dazzling smile, and amazing ability to charm anyone. No one would think that they were twins. Sure they had their similarities, but he was tall, muscular, and confident, while Meg was short, tiny, and shy. In fact, the two didn't even know they were related until about five years ago. Their father was Canadian, and their mother was American. After the two were born, their relationship fell apart and they divorced, resulting in their father taking custody of Meg and moving back to Canada, while their mother kept Alfred in America.

Two years ago, their father died from throat cancer, resulting in Meg moving to America to live with her mother, twin brother, and her mother's boyfriend.

Meg, however, still considered herself Canadian through and through. Despite the constant Canada jokes that are made in history class, she prides herself on her roots. Not that anyone cares really. Her whole high school is basically an international brothel. It seems that everyone comes from different countries.

There are those Italians, those Germans, those Japanese, those British, those Russians, those Nordics…just….it's crazy. Meg never understood why her public high school was made up of so many foreigners.

Meg turned her head away from the mirror to look outside her large curtained window. The sun was barely skimming the horizon. It would be another good hour before she would have to start getting ready for school.

The thought almost made her cry out in frustration. She would actually prefer to go to school right now, anything to keep her mind busy so that she wouldn't think about the rather large pickle she was in. The Canadian knew that if she were to turn the television on, she'd wake either her brother or her mother. Meg loved her sleep. It's a known fact. Even Alfred would realize that something was off about his sister if he found out that she was awake. And then he'd pester her to no end, and she would eventually tell him because she has little will power. It also doesn't help that she's a horrible liar.

Meg walked into her bathroom again and splashed her face with water. She avoided looking at herself in the mirror as she stripped and hopped in the shower. She figured that maybe a nice soak would help soothe her nerves. As she stepped under the water, she subconsciously ran her hands over her stomach once again; call her shallow, but she wanted to enjoy a flat torso for as long as she could. She gritted her teeth and let out another breath. Today was going to be a long day…but no matter…she would just have to…avoid conflict. Yeah, that's it. Just not look at anybody, not talk to anybody…it shouldn't be that hard. It's not like she ever talked to anybody anyways.

Meg bit back a groan of frustration as she stepped out of the shower and dried herself with a towel. She was barely starting her sophomore year! This shouldn't be happening! What did she ever do to deserve this? The Canadian realized that she was close to reaching panic point. This was hopeless! Even if she TOLD Gilbert, it's not like he'd give a flying two shits. The guy was a damn knockout who definitely had OTHER things on his mind….or other GIRLS (and guys) on his mind. She knew that if she even attempted to talk to him, he'd pass her by without a single glance. Second of all, he's a senior. Probably seventeen or eighteen. Sure, he's hooked up with the youngins before, but he would never take any of them seriously. Not only was Meg a youngin, but she was invisible. Double negative right there, eh?

Plus…there was that OTHER matter. A matter that Meg just realized. A matter that seemed to hit her in the face with a baseball bat.

Gilbert Beilschmidt's girlfriend.

The badass, scary-as-hell, but absolutely gorgeous Hungarian chick, Elizaveta Hedervary. Meg shuddered at the thought of the girl finding out that she was pregnant with her boyfriend's kid. Oh hell, Meg knew that no one would forget her then. Elizaveta would make sure of that.

Elizaveta wasn't afraid to hit or smack. She may be beautiful and feminine, but damn…she could be scary. Especially when she had a large baseball bat…or a frying pan. All the guys feared and lusted after her.

Plus…it was always Gilbert and Elizaveta.

The German and the Hungarian.

Such a hot, badass couple.

And Meg could see why.

The thought made her feel absolutely nauseous.

Oh Jesus Christ…this whole day was going to make her feel nauseous.

XX

The day had been manageable so far. Neither Alfred nor her mother suspected anything when Meg walked down for breakfast. Alfred simply ranted on and on about who knows what while Meg kept her head down low, scooping spoonful after spoonful of cereal into her mouth. She desperately wished that she could have pancakes with maple syrup…REAL maple syrup from back home…but alas, the world didn't work that way.

In the school bus, she sat in her usual corner, staring out the window aimlessly with her headphones on. She couldn't comprehend any of the songs she was listening to. The first few classes were all normal. She took notes, kept her head down, and avoided being acknowledged or seen. A few people ran into her; she tripped a few times; she dropped a few of her books. It was all normal. Nothing to worry about. Absolutely NOTHING at all.

Meg avoided the senior hallway as much as possible. She didn't even look in that direction, knowing that she'd probably see the "Bad Touch Trio" strutting around. There were a few times where Meg was absolutely sure she heard Gilbert's "kesesese," but she always just put her head down and started to head in the opposite direction.

It wasn't until lunch that something actually happened that caused Meg to lose her sense of calm.

Meg always ate lunch alone, outside, on the bleachers facing the track. There were usually a few students hanging around out there as well, but the Canadian never associated with them. However, as she bit into her peanut butter and jelly sandwich, she couldn't help but listen to the conversation being held by two gossiping freshman girls.

"…Oh my God…so…are they going to break up?"

"I don't know. But I hear that she's furious. Knowing that bitch, she's going to fucking smack him in the face with a hammer."

"No! But Gilbert is sooooo gorgeous! Why would anyone want to mess up that face?"

"Elizaveta would. Especially after this. Man, I feel sorry for the chick that he slept with….whoever she is…"

Meg choked on her sandwich. But both the freshman girls didn't even acknowledge her presence. Typical.

"…So she's pissed because she found out that he slept with someone at Francis's party?" one of the girls pressed on.

Meg felt herself getting paler and paler with each word being shared.

"Well duh! I would be too! That's just…not okay. That girl must be a total whore or something. I say Elizaveta has the right to kick her ass."

"Yeah, I agree…but not Gilbert's! His ass is too perfect! Wait…so no one knows who this girl is? The one he slept with?"

"Nope. Gilbert himself doesn't even know who she is. I heard him talking about it with Antonio…"

Wow. Creeper much? Meg wanted to throw up.

"So…no one knows at all? Not even a hint?"

"Well…people are saying that he started making out with some small blonde chick and then they both went into a room and never came out…but that's about it."

Meg felt like her throat was closing up. She immediately wrapped her sandwich back up in the plastic wrap and stuffed it into her lunch sack. She was definitely not hungry. She sat there, absolutely still, determined not to look at the two gossiping freshman girls.

"Well…small blonde girls at this school….that narrows it down a bit. Who's small and blonde?"

The Canadian had had enough. She shot up from her sitting position and quietly turned away, swiftly making her way back to the school. Meg's legs pumped weakly. Why did she feel so feeble? Her nausea increased with each pant, and the air hitting her face seemed to sting.

Wait…where was she going again? She stopped and huffed, fighting the urge to vomit.

Alright Meg, don't lose your head. No one knows it's you. They'll probably never guess it!

_Yeah. But when you swell up like a balloon, they're going to get a hint._

There's always abortion!

…_You know that you don't want to abort the kid. _

Meg paused in shock and placed a hand over her flat stomach. For some unexplainable reason, she realized it. She didn't want abortion. She didn't want to kill the child growing inside her. Hell, even if it were that psychopathic Russian Ivan's kid, she wouldn't want to go to an abortion clinic. Suddenly, the thought of having her child sucked out of her body made her dry heave. She clutched her stomach with more force, as if defending herself. Since when did she have motherly instincts? Meg was confused and scared and shocked and…

She immediately started to run again, despite her nausea. She ran aimlessly, determined to just get her mind off of all this complicated shit. She knew that if she wasn't in motion, she'd think and think and think…

SMACK!

What the….

She stumbled backwards, her eyes squeezed shut, and her small body throbbing from the pain. The world felt like it was tilting…she was about to fall over….

Then, someone grabbed her arm with one hand, breaking her fall. She stumbled a bit more, but came to a halt, breathing heavily.

"Kesesese, you should watch where you're going, birdie."

Meg squeaked like a fucking rubber duck. Her eyes shot open and she wrenched her hand out of Gilbert's grip so violently that the force caused her to lose her balance again, resulting in her landing flat on her ass.

She inwardly groaned, feeling her cheeks flush violently as she dared herself to glance up at Gilbert Beilschmidt. Her breath caught in her throat. How could someone look so devious and evil, yet so damn sexy? It should be a sin! Meg's spine tingled as she immediately placed a hand over her stomach again.

Well, little embryo….or blastocyst… whatever the hell you are….here's your daddy.

Meg saw that he was accompanied by none other than Francis Bonnefoy and Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, both standing at each side of his shoulders. The Canadian gulped, feeling like a cornered mouse as they all smirked down at her.

"Ohonhonhonhon, how adorable," the Frenchman said in a sultry voice as he eyed Meg. "I'm surprised that I haven't noticed this one before. _Elle est mignonne_."

Meg immediately scrambled to her feet, looking at the ground, unsure of whether to stay put, or turn around and book it. It didn't really matter. She felt pathetic either way. Her cheeks further reddened at Francis's words. How convenient, eh? Of all the times for the infamous Bad Touch Trio to finally notice her, it's right here and right now.

"Don't scare her, mi amigo!" Antonio said with a small laugh. "And stop creeping on the underclassman."

"You're one to talk, arschloch," Gilbert spouted with a smirk. "Have you asked Lovino if you could get into his pants, yet?"

Meg started to back away slowly, occasionally glancing up at the three seniors. She looked around at her surroundings, and with a sinking realization, she saw that there were people glancing over at them curiously. Maybe if she stayed absolutely still, she'd disappear.

"BEILSCHMIDT!"

The roaring voice made Meg jump up in fear. Her heart accelerated as she spun around to see who had emitted the demonic roar. To her horror, she saw none other than Elizaveta Hedervary marching forward, her thick brown hair swinging wildly around her face, making her look like some sort of blood-hungry goddess. Her green eyes were narrowed dangerously, fixed solely on Gilbert. Her fists were clenched and trembling, and each step she took seemed to resemble the oncoming apocalypse.

"Aww…fuck…." Gilbert muttered, his eyes widening in fear as Elizaveta came closer and closer.

Meg gave another squeak and ran off to the side, standing there hopelessly as she watched the terrifyingly beautiful girl stand in front of the German, her eyes flashing dangerously. Was it just her, or did the air seem to get colder?

Francis and Antonio both backed up a few steps.

"Um….well, Gilbert, mi amigo…we have things to do…"

"Oui….er…we wouldn't want to intrude…."

The two turned around and stalked off quickly, looking absolutely relieved to not be involved in this spectacle. Gilbert glared after the two, but it was short lived, for he turned back to face his girlfriend, looking as if he were about to be slaughtered.

Meg knew that she should probably leave as well, book it while she could, but she found herself stuck to the spot, her eyes glued to the scene before her.

"WHO THE FUCK IS IT?" she screamed, her voice bitter and loud…so loud that it made Meg's ears ache. The Canadian subconsciously rubbed her temples.

"I-I…uh…" Gilbert stuttered. Meg never thought that she'd see the "awesome" Gilbert Beilschmidt stutter out of fear.

"ANSWER ME, YOU KOCSOG! WHICH…MISERABLE BITCH...DID…YOU…SCREW?"

Everyone was staring now. Meg even swore she saw that Japanese guy Kiku Honda get out his camera.

"_Fick! _I don't remember! I was fucking drunk! It was dark, and I didn't know what I was doin—"

"It was DARK? IT WAS FUCKING DARK? THAT'S YOUR EXCUSE?" Elizaveta roared as she raised a hand, causing Gilbert to cower.

If Meg wasn't the culprit here, she would've found this highly entertaining.

She may even be stifling giggles along with the other students watching from the sidelines.

But alas, Meg was the culprit. She was the one who slept with Gilbert; she was the one who was pregnant. She was the "miserable bitch."

"Elizaveta, calm down! Mein Gott! It was a mistake, ja? It doesn't even matter!" he pleaded, still cowering, his eye on the Hungarian's hand, which was still dangerously raised.

Meg couldn't blame him. Though Elizaveta may not be that tall, she's heard stories about how violent she could be. Her hits must hurt like hell. The thought made Meg grow cold.

"If it doesn't FUCKING matter, who the hell is it?" The Hungarian girl persisted, stamping her foot in defiance. She inched closer and closer to Gilbert, her glare growing nastier and nastier. Gilbert shook his head back and forth.

"I TOLD you, mein liebe, I don't remember at all….I—"

But then he trailed off as his eyes fell on Meg. The Canadian inhaled sharply and froze, staring back at him. She watched in horror as realization dawned on the German's face. His lips were parted slightly and his red eyes seemed to stab at her.

Fuck…fuck fuck fuck. Meg bit her lip and dared herself to back up a few steps. She was going to be was going to throw up. And then she'd cry, and then Elizaveta would rip her innards out, and people would forget all about it the next morning because no one ever remembered Meg Williams.

He remembered.

Perfect timing, eh?

"You what?" Elizaveta demanded, still looking pissed as hell, but confused by her boyfriend's sudden pause.

Meg spun around and started to run. For once, she prayed that no one noticed.


	3. Breaking the News Part One

Meg was in the last stall in the girl's bathroom in the crappiest part of the school. As nasty as the graffiti covered walls were, the Canadian found that she wouldn't want to be anywhere else at that moment. Nobody ever really came in here; those that did were the drug-crazed, chicks who always smelt of dope, and carried a sack of cocaine in their pockets. Meg usually found herself quite frightened of this group, but given the situation she was in, she was willing to make friends if need be.

The Canadian sat on top of the toilet (thank God these toilets actually had lids), hugging her knees, and trembling slightly from shock, fear, and embarrassment. Gilbert's face kept flashing through her head. He knew. Dammit, he definitely recognized her as the infamous anonymous chick he screwed at Francis's big party. The situation wouldn't be half as bad if it weren't for the fact that Elizaveta will most annihilate her, and that Meg was pregnant.

Oh God. Pregnant. PREGNANT.

Meg felt another wave of hysteria overcome her as she held a fist to her stomach. Here she was, a tiny, pitiful blond girl at fifteen, moping in a dirty-ass bathroom, pregnant with a verified German sex god's kid. And nobody knows. Not even her own brother.

Ahh, shit! Alfred!

Meg's brother was already overprotective, despite the fact that the two were the same age. Not only that, but it's a known fact that Alfred Jones despises Gilbert Beilschmidt. It's a competitive thing really; Meg always knew that her brother has a thing for being the best, for being "the hero." However, Alfred is at a slight disadvantage; he's a sophomore, and no matter how high he ranks on the social skill, the BTT (Bad Touch Trio), would always top due to their seniority.

Anyway, the point is, if Alfred found out that Meg was pregnant with Gilbert Beilschmidt's baby, he would flip a fucking table.

It's times like these where Meg wished that she was back in good ol' Canada. Oh Canada…a land of moose, maple syrup, chillax people; a land void of drama, murderous girlfriends, and sexy albinos who like to stick _it_ where _it_ shouldn't be stuck.

But Meg knew that she had to tell someone. She just had to. Sometimes, Meg wished that she had a bff, someone she could spill her secrets to, and trust to keep her secrets. Someone who would comfort her and not judge her and support her.

All Meg had was Alfred.

And he didn't exactly fit the criteria.

But did she have a choice at this point? With Elizaveta on a rampage to find the chick who screwed her boyfriend? With the possibility that she could be dead at any second because Gilbert might have already told the world whose vagina he stuck his dick in? No. She couldn't be alone in this. And who the hell was she going to tell first? Her mom? Pfft. No. Yes, her mother would find out eventually, but the idea of telling her first made Meg sick to her stomach.

Meg would have to tell Alfred when she got home. And she would have to deal with the consequences.

XX

The rest of the day was uneventful, but that was because the poor girl had spent the remaining school hours locked in the stall. She had even fallen asleep for an hour…maybe two, her head resting awkwardly against the nasty-ass graffiti covered wall. Thankfully, she had managed to hop on the bus in time before it sped off.

To her relief, no one seemed to be shooting her funny looks or pointing in her direction; Gilbert obviously hasn't spilled the beans. Or he has, but no one even remembers who the hell she is. Either way, Meg was thankful that no one was looking at her right now. For once, she was thankful to be practically invisible.

Alfred was already splayed on the couch when she got home; he had last period free. Her brother was eyeing the television in fervent concentration, his thumbs working furiously on the PS3 controller. Of course. Meg knew that this was not the time to tell him.

She ghosted up the stairs toward her room. She closed the door behind her and collapsed on her bed, covering her face with both hands. After taking a few deep breaths, she sat back up again and eyed her big white stuffy bear that sat propped against her pillows. Meg found herself smiling as she gently grabbed the bear and held it to her chest.

"Hello, Kumaling," she cooed.

Her dad had bought her this bear for Christmas when she was four years old. At first, Meg had hated it because she had gotten it instead of those Barbie dolls that she so desperately wanted. But her attachment to the stuffed bear grew with time; though, she could never remember the original name she had given it. She knew that it was 'Kuma- something,' so she settled with different variations each time she addressed the stuffed animal.

"Today has just been awful," she whimpered, sighing. "But of course, you wouldn't know, Kumakachi, because you weren't there. Hmm…at least you don't have to worry about drunken parties, unwanted sex, and unexpected pregnancy…"

Meg closed her eyes, her head aching slightly. How the hell was she going to tell Alfred about her "situation?" Is she supposed to just walk right up to him and tell the dude flat out that she was pregnant? Is she supposed to hint at it and let him make his own assumptions? Is she supposed to sit him down and prepare him for the big news?

She groaned in frustration, clutching Kumawhatsitsname even tighter. She was trying to tell Alfred; it's not like she was breaking the news to Gilbert or anything (although, that may or may not happen soon, depending on what she decides to do).

Meg lay sprawled on her bed for the next few hours, her mind spinning, panic seizing her chest, clutching Kumachiki. Her eyes were glazed over as she looked at the bare ceiling, memorizing the various patterns; she even saw a few cracks here and there.

She was shaken out of her stupor by a light knock on her door. The Canadian shot upwards, trying to wipe any signs of panic from her face. "Y-Yeah?" she stuttered.

"Hey Megs, I was just wondering what you wanted for dinner. Mom called and said she would be home late, so I was thinking that I could just order a pizza or something…"

It was Alfred. Meg swallowed the large aching lump in her throat, and with a sickening realization, she knew that if she didn't tell him now, she would never work up the courage to spill the news.

He was right outside the door. All she would need to do is ask him to come in so that she could tell him something important.

"U-Uh…" Meg said, her voice shaking.

"Meg? You okay?" her brother questioned.

The Canadian closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Alfred, can y-you come i-in here for a minute?"

There was a short silence from the other side of the door, followed by the sound of the door knob being turned. The door opened to reveal a puzzled looking Alfred, who was staring at her with an expression filled with curiosity and mild annoyance. "What's up, sis?"

Meg just stared at him, wide eyed, her mouth slightly open. She clung to the stuffed animal as if her life depended on it.

"Uhh…Meg?" Alfred asked, an undertone of concern creeping into his voice.

Meg closed her mouth for a second, swallowing, her heart racing. She then spoke, her voice sounding rather weak, "I-I have something to tell you…"

Alfred smiled slightly, "Yeah? What's up?"

The male twin walked into the room, closing the door behind him. He propped himself on the edge of Meg's bed, looking expectantly at his sister, who was still staring at him, her eyes wide in fear, her fingernails digging into the arms of the stuffed bear.

"I…uh…" she said oh-so-eloquently.

"Dude," Alfred laughed. "Just spit it out; I haven't got all day you know."

Meg gulped before choking out, "I-It's pretty bad…"

Alfred's smile died as he realized just how terrified his sister actually looked. His curiosity peaked, and his eyes narrowed slightly. "What is it, Meg?" he pressed, his voice defiant, almost stern really.

The Canadian opened her mouth again, but no words came out. She felt her limbs start to tremble; she had to do this. Alfred was the only one that she had. Most likely, he was the only one that could offer any sort of assistance, even if he did end up blowing up the house first.

"Meg…" he said again, this time, his voice softer. He placed a gentle hand on his sister's shoulder. "Please tell me."

Meg avoided looking her brother straight in the eyes. Her face felt strangely numb as she whispered the words, "I'm pregnant."

"Come again?"

Seriously God? Why?

"I-I'm…pregnant," she repeated; she stuttered, but she was clear enough. Clear enough for even her blockhead of a brother to understand.

A deafening silence filled the room. One of those silences that gave you the impression that you had gone deaf. Meg couldn't even properly hear her heartbeat.

With a slow, jerky movement, the Canadian cast a glance at her brother, whose expression, to her horror, was stone cold. Absolutely cold. Alfred's blue eyes looked icy from behind his glasses; his face seemed to have lost all its normal color. His fists were clenched on his lap, and his mouth was set in a flat, frozen line.

Meg swallowed, her mouth feeling unnaturally dry. She took a deep breath and pleaded in a feeble voice, "P-Please say something…"

She forced herself to keep watching her brother for any sign of movement or reaction beyond his icy coma. Her fingernails dug into Kumataki's arms; all she wanted to do was hide behind the rather large stuffed bear.

Finally, after what seemed like eons of painful breath holding, Alfred's lips moved. His voice was low and abnormally quiet.

"Who?"

"W-What?" Meg asked, her voice shaking.

"Who is it? Who's the father?" he asked again, his voice still caked with that abnormal chill.

Oh Mother of Mercy. This is the hard part. Telling your protective brother about your little predicament is bad enough, eh? Meg's stomach further dropped as Alfred asked the inevitable, deadly question.

The Canadian suddenly wished that she was mothering anyone's kid…anyone but Gilbert's. Okay, maybe she wasn't really fond of the idea of carrying someone like Ivan's baby, or Francis's baby…but Gilbert isn't much better.

"U-Um…well…" Meg choked.

"Spit it out, Meg," Alfred pressed a bit harshly. His eyes did not move or flicker.

She closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath. "You'd hate me forever, Al."

"_Who…is…it?" _

Her brother stressed every single word with intended, or unintended viciousness. Meg's eyes widened in fear, and the shame seemed to constrict her chest.

"It's…Gilbert."

"Beilschmidt?"

She nodded.

"…"

"…"

"So…you're the mystery chick that he screwed at Francis's party? The one everyone's talking about?" Alfred asked, slow realization creeping into his tone.

Meg felt her eyes sting with unshed tears. Just the way Alfred said it sent her over the edge; it was as if he were talking to someone off the street corner.

The Canadian nodded wordlessly, refusing to meet her brother's gaze. She didn't want to see anger, coldness, or disappointment there. Meg knew that she'd most likely see all three there.

Yes. She was the "infamous mystery chick." And now she has to pay the price for it. Who knew that this hot topic revolved around invisible, fifteen-year-old Meg Williams? What a damn mood dampener. Gilbert was probably a bit disappointed to find out that this anonymous blonde girl he had banged was someone as plain and pitiful as her.

"A-Al?" Meg whimpered, daring herself to look at him after a moment of somber silence.

Alfred wasn't looking at her. He was staring forward, his eyes blank; Meg noticed that his knuckles were white from clenching his fists.

Then… he stood up.

"…The Fuck, Meg?"

"I…"

"How could you be so damn stupid?"

"I don't…"

"Gilbert Beilschmidt? Really?"

"I was drunk…"

"Do you realize how much _shit _you are in, now?"

"I know and I'm…"

"Think about your fucking future, dude! You're royally screwed!"

"Please stop, Al…"

"Does he know? Did you tell him?"

"No."

Her voice seemed to resonate through the room, leaving a stream of steady, painful silence behind.

By now, Meg was doing all she could to stop the tears from flowing. She felt dirty, guilty, ashamed, disgusting; she felt like a whore. She honestly wished that she could turn back time so that she wouldn't go to Francis's party and get drunk. Then, none of this would've happened.

Alfred ran his hand through his hair out of frustration, his eyes narrow behind his glasses. "Jesus Christ, Meg…I don't know what to say anymore…"

The Canadian sniffed and hastily wiped away at her eyes to prevent the fresh wave of tears that desperately wanted to spill down her cheeks. Her throat felt thick, and her chest was aching.

"…And you are sure that you're pregnant, right?"

Meg nodded; sure, she hasn't gone to the doctor's to confirm her pregnancy, but nine pregnancy tests, a missed period, and abnormal amounts of fatigue seemed to solidify the fact. What was next? Morning sickness?

"Are you going to…keep it?"

The question ran through Meg's ears. Upon instinct, she clutched her stomach, biting her bottom lip. The thought of an abortion made her cringe. If she were asked this question yesterday, she would've considered the option of abortion with more interest, but now, that was the last thing she wanted to do. However, she couldn't just throw the option out the window.

"I-I think so…Alfred…" she said in a voice so quiet, that it could've been mistaken for a whisper.

He stared at her for a few more seconds, before shooting up from the bed, a fierce expression present on his face.

"You need to tell him," he stated flatly.

Meg's insides went cold; telling Gilbert about her situation had ghosted through her mind once or twice, but with her own brother stating so adamantly that she ought to tell him about it, the idea seemed absolutely abhorrent.

There are just…so many things that can go wrong with telling him.

"I-I don't think…" Meg spluttered.

"It's his kid too, Meggy. If you're going to deal with this shit, then pull the fucking bastard down with you. He deserves it," Alfred spat, his obvious distaste for Gilbert displaying itself front and center.

But the Canadian wasn't that heartless. She wasn't really keen on the idea of going up to someone she has never talked to in her life, and tear down the foundations of his young life by asking him to support his unborn, unexpected child…just because of one drunken night.

The guy had a beautiful, kick-your-ass girlfriend for crying out loud.

Call her selfish, but Meg was scared. She was scared of telling Gilbert; she had never been one for socializing much, or talking in front of people without blushing or stuttering. Going up to someone like Gilbert Beilschmidt and telling him that he was the father of her kid was…a bit out there, lightly speaking.

Sure, Meg wanted attention once and a while. Sure, she yearned to be heard or acknowledged; but, she didn't want to be recognized as the little blonde whore who got knocked up by Beilschmidt at Francis's party. She didn't want people to be staring at her stomach. She didn't want to see Gilbert look at her in fear or disgust, to hear him say that he doesn't want anything to do with the baby.

Hell, she didn't want to be murdered by Elizaveta.

Meg sighed and shook her head. "Al, that's a really hard thing to do."

"Bullshit, Meg," growled Alfred. "If you're going to keep the kid, you're not going to be able to hide it forever; you can't just sit here on your own while the albino bastard goes around fucking everybody, without a care in the world. It's not right."

Meg whimpered and clutched her head, squeezing her eyes shut as the tears continued to spill down her cheeks.

"Shit, Alfred! I don't know, okay? Just…s-shut up! Please!" she burst out, her voice choked and harsh.

The Canadian suddenly regretted telling her brother. She would give anything right now to not be here, being glared at and scolded, pressured to do something that scared her out of her fucking pants.

There was another moment of silence, broken only by the uneven intervals of Meg's breathing. She realized that due to her distress, she hadn't noticed that Kumanigi had fallen to the ground. Before she could bend over to grab the stuffed bear, Alfred gently picked it up and held it out to his sister, a somber expression on his face.

Meg quickly snatched it and hugged it to her chest.

Alfred sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. "Look, sis, I don't want to have to do this, but…"

Oh shit.

She was already imagining some of the crap he was coming up with; he was the "hero" after all, always striving to do what is right and heroic and all that codswollop.

"…If you don't tell Beilschmidt about this by tomorrow, then I'm telling mom."

Meg felt numb.

…Dick move. DICK MOVE RIGHT THERE.

Her gaze hardened and an overwhelming sensation of nausea overwhelmed her; she was afraid to open her mouth, in fear something far nastier than words would spill out.

Then, as soon as the nausea had come, anger filled her small body.

What right does this damn idiot have to do this? To fucking _blackmail _her? He was supposed to be a supportive brother! Someone who would hug her and tell her everything was alright and keep her secrets and…and…

No. She was stuck with this damn dipshit instead. Meg was struck by how much like their father Alfred really was. She was absolutely sure that if he was alive, and sitting here in Alfred's place, he'd react in a very similar way; with disappointment, anger, and the need to pressure Meg into taking immediate action. No fooling around.

"It doesn't matter," she snapped. "Mom's going to find out anyways. Go ahead and tell her; but, I'm NOT telling Gilbert."

Lie. Meg still wasn't sure if she was going to tell Gilbert about this or not, but her irritation at her brother seemed to take over every other thought.

"Fine," he said flatly. Alfred straightened his glasses in a graceful manner before making his way to the door. "I'm calling mom right now."

Aww, shit…

"W-Wait!"

He halted.

Meg took a deep breath. "I-If I tell Gilbert about…this…you won't tell mom…right?"

She was panicking. Mortified. Meg felt like she was going to pass out from all of the pressure; normal teenage girls should not be feeling this amount of strain. Then again, teenage girls really shouldn't be getting pregnant, now, should they?

Alfred's face immediately softened as he saw how panicked Meg looked. He sighed gently and said, "No. I'll leave that up to you; I just…I just…"

He rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably, his mouth lightly open with unspoken words. Meg narrowed her eyes at him.

"…don't want my sister's baby to not have a dad, ya know?"

Oh. How damn touching.

She let out a breath and shook her head, her heart still pounding. "That's not your call to make though."

"I know…but…please, just tell him, Meg. I understand that there's some shit to be faced. And if he refuses to help you, then at least you got him thinking about it; the dude deserves to feel as crappy about it as you do. And don't worry about Elizaveta…I'll make sure she doesn't lay a hand on you," Alfred clarified, the determined look returning to his face again.

Meg stared at her brother wide-eyed. She didn't know whether to feel extremely pissed off, or touched by the fact that he cared so much for her.

She settled for cold neutrality.

"How will you know if I told him or not?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Simple. I'll ask him."

"A-And…what if he goes around, spreading the news like wildfire…or what if he tells his friends, and they go out to tell everybody else? What if he laughs at me, or humiliates me?"

"I'll sock the fucker straight in the face, then you and I will run off to Canada," he answered, a small smile playing on his lips, despite the fact that his cerulean eyes were still icy.

Despite her unbearable discomfort, she couldn't help but let the ghost of a smile grace her lips in return.


End file.
